


Dear John Doe

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon, Implied/Referenced Abuse, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-06
Updated: 2006-01-06
Packaged: 2018-12-27 14:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Post 110, AU. Brian is not a crisis counselor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Thank you to all those on Livejournal who have been responding to this story.   


* * *

He was standing on the curb talking to a man in a suit. He looked like shit, Brian hardly would have recognized him otherwise. He was wearing layers for the cold, a hoodie, a torn up jacket, gloves that were falling apart and he was backed by three other boys standing behind him. 

Brian crossed the street without even thinking about it. It had been three fucking years, but that fucking face still bothered him and stalked him around town. It stalked around Debbie and he had seen more of Jennifer Taylor in the last three years than he would have ever liked. 

And there he was _is_ , standing in front of him and staring at him blankly. If the little shit didn't remember him..."Justin."

Justin blinked, "yeah?"

Brian rolled his eyes and grabbed his arm, "come on we need to talk." 

Justin snorted and slipped out of his grasp, "I'm sorry I don't go anywhere with strangers."

"Listen you little shit, we have things to discuss," He reached for Justin's arm again, but the kid stepped back, "I've had my tongue up your ass, I think that's as far away from strangers as you can get."

"Are you psychotic? Do you _know_ how many guys have had their _name a appendage_ up my ass?"

Brian blinked, "stop fucking around Justin, you need to come home. Now." 

"I am home." Justin turned back and started towards the gaggle of boys. Hustlers, now that he looked closer. Fucking hustlers, Justin was fucking hustling. He was going to kill him and then fucking Jennifer Taylor was going to kill him. 

He tried a different approach. He walked up to Justin and used his softest voice, "your mom wants to see you, everyone wants to see you Justin."

Justin's face remained frustratingly blank, "what the fuck do you know about my mother?" 

"More than you do at this point."

"Yeah I would fucking think so genius. You know my family?" Justin had finally changed expressions, although what this one was, he couldn't really tell. Some mixture of a thousand different feelings from someone who didn't express them often. 

"Of course I fucking know your family." 

"Where do they live?"

Brian felt something odd sinking in, "in Pittsburgh."

Justin stared at him for a moment, "I'm from Pittsburgh," is all he said, almost to himself, in a quiet soft voice. 

"Justin! Let's go, we're getting pizza!" One of the boys called. Brian blocked his path and held onto his arm. 

"I'll take you to a fucking four star restaurant if you come with me," Justin's face had slid back to blank, "and I'll pay you."

Justin looked back at the boys who were waiting and then at Brian, "how much?"


	2. Chapter 2

  
Author's notes: Thanks to all those on Livejournal who have been responding to this story.   


* * *

Justin looked decidedly uncomfortable in this setting. He had refused the offer of a jacket and refused to let go of any of his possessions including the ratty shoulder bag which was now resting in his lap. Brian had to shell out 200 dollars to bribe the maitre'd to let Justin pass. He kept looking around uncomfortably, eyeing the women in diamonds and pearls and the men in suits, but his eyes slid back to Brian once in awhile, probably waiting for Brian to say something. 

"Do you have my money?" 

Brian smirked, "after dinner." 

"If you want me to fuck you it costs extra," that caused a few heads to turn, but Brian kept his eyes on Justin. 

"I'll keep that in mind. How about we discuss some things first?" 

"Like what?" 

"Like what the fuck you are doing in New York, Justin." 

Justin looked confused again, before he wiped his face clean of expression. Brian remembered a kid who couldn't help but express everything he felt. This kid or man more likely was incredibly different. And under this light Brian wasn't even sure how he recognized him. His face was all angles, sharpness, he had headed to the bathroom when they got here and washed his face and hands so the dirt that was covering them up was gone. He was still stunning. 

"I live here." 

"No shit. You fucking ran away."

"I did, did I?" 

"Yeah, with my fucking credit card, which you will be paying off." 

"I'm not paying for shit," Justin started to get up from his chair but Brian reached over and shoved him back down. Thank Christ for the corner table. 

"Calm down princess," Brian was getting frustrated, incredibly frustrated. They were talking in circles, Justin was far too closed off and Brian kept getting the feeling he was missing a huge part of this puzzle, "let's start at the beginning-"

Justin sneered, "lets." 

Brian snarled, "great." 

There was silence for a moment and then the waiter appeared. Brian ordered for them both and Justin remained completely impassive, watching Brian and then the patrons in the restaurant.

When the waiter was gone, Brian tried to figure out where to start. He knew how to talk to the old Justin, or he thought he did, but maybe he hadn't know Justin as well as he thought, Christ he had only known him for a short while before he ran. 

Justin's face was completely blank and he seemed determined not to give away shit and was trying to make Brian sweat for information. Well fuck that, Brian only sweat when he fucked. 

"So you're a hustler?" Not as subtle as Brian would have liked, but maybe direct was the right approach here.

"Appears so." Maybe not. 

"When did you start doing that?"

"A few years ago," Justin narrowed his eyes, "is there something specific you want to know or are you just trying to get to know me better?" 

"What the fuck happened to you? Why haven't you contacted your mother? Why the fuck didn't you come back to the Pitts if you were having trouble?" 

Justin seemed to be carefully mulling over his answers then he seemed to dismiss them altogether, "50 bucks for each answered question." 

"15."

"50 and that's final, otherwise you can find your answers somewhere else."

Fuck. "I like the way you do business," when Justin didn't so much as crack a smile or flinch he said, "deal." 

"I'm not sure what happened to me, I don't know any information about my mother and I didn't realize I had anywhere to go in the Pitts. That's 150 dollars."

"Yeah I passed the 1st grade, thanks. What do you mean you're not sure about what happened to you?"

"What do you think I mean? I mean I don't remember." 

"You don't remember."

"Question or statement?" 

"That was a statement smartass." Then the food came and Justin seemed disinclined to answer anymore questions. He didn't remember anything? What had caused that? He looked at Justin carefully. That's when he noticed the scar on Justin's forehead, it wasn't noticeable before because of Justin's hair, but he had pushed it back to eat and the dim light in the restaurant caused it to pop out. Brian frowned and ignored his food. 

"Where'd you get that scar?" 

Justin stopped eating, "I don't remember."

"There seems to be a lot of things you don't remember."

Justin swallowed hard and glared at him, "what exactly do you want me to do about that? And why the fuck do you care so much? You obviously knew me. Relation?"

Brian snorted, "we're not related." 

"But you said you knew my mother." 

"I do." 

Justin didn't seem to like having the tables being turned on him, Brian took pity on the kid. 

"We fucked a few times, I had a vested interest in your survival and so did your mother obviously. You're from Pittsburgh and you ran away three years ago after a...incident. My turn, why didn't you try to contact anyone?" 

"I would have, had I known. I woke up in a alley, bleeding from the head. I knew my name because of the sketchpad, the guy who-whoever left me behind, left then I was rather apathetic about finding out who I was." 

"Why's that?" 

"Do you know how many Justin Taylor's there are in this country?" 

"No." 

"A lot." 

"Well now we can bring the baby bird back to it's nest," Brian said, his voice sickly sweet. 

"No thanks." 

"No thanks?"

"I'm fine here." 

"Bullshit, your selling yourself on the street, you could have God knows how many diseases-"

"What are you? My mensch?"

"Your fucking mother breathing down my neck-"

"Listen. Fuck her and fuck you. I don't remember shit, so whatever happened before happened. Tell her I'm alive, tell her I'm selling myself on the streets, tell her fuck all, I don't care. You owe me 350 plus the 500 for even coming with you."

Brian blinked, "you kept track of that?" 

"400." 

"I'll pay you 1000 dollars to come with me to the Pitts." 

"No. My 850 please." 

"What if I don't pay? What if I want to fuck?" 

"500 plus 500 that's a thousand now. And I'm not fucking you. My money, now." 

"I have to get cash." Justin got up from his chair, pulling on his coat and rearranging his bag.

"Let's go." 

*

Justin stared at him curiously as they walked to the closest ATM. Brian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, because how fucking surreal was it to be walking next to Justin Taylor after he dissapeared 3 fucking years ago. It was a like a bad acid trip that just pounded at his brain. 

"How old was I when we fucked?"

"Why?" 

"I'm curious." 

"Thought you were putting it all behind you?"

Justin didn't say anything more, a block later they reached the ATM. 

Brian cleared his throat, he needed to keep the kid within arms reach, "I'll pay you 400 dollars to come with me to my hotel." 

"And do what exactly? Talk some more?" 

"Or fuck."

"You don't need to pay someone to fuck you, I'm sure you get laid enough." 

"How flattering, but I want to fuck you." 

"And I don't want to fuck you, so give me my money and lets move on," Justin said. 

"500." 

"No, there is no bargaining. I'd like to get home before the muggers come out, my money please?" 

Fuck. Brian was not letting this kid go, he was bringing him back to his hotel and then to the Pitts if he had to knock him out and carry him.


	3. Chapter 3

  
Author's notes: Thanks to all those on Livejournal who have been responding to this story.   


* * *

The guy was fucking nuts, hot but fucking nuts. He refused to go anywhere near his hotel room and he certainly wasn't going to fuck the guy no matter how much he craved that money and no matter how hot the guy was, and he was hot. The hottest trick he had ever picked up. But he didn't really pick this one up, he picked Justin up and that's when it got weird.

Now here he was, not in the warm hotel room, which knowing how much money he unloaded because of a hustler, would have no doubt been 5 star. A hot shower, a warm bed, a nice long fuck. But no, the guy had to be psychotic.

He had ditched him at the ATM refusing the offers of higher and higher amounts of money. He may have forgotten everything else in his life but he still had his fucking common sense. For all he knew the guy could be making everything up. _But then how had he known his name?_ It didn't matter anymore. He was home, safe (relatively) and with friends (almost.)

Trevor had accosted him right when he walked in, demanding all the "juicy details" of his night out. But Justin didn't share, anything. He had brushed him off and gone to his corner of the apartment, collapsing on the cot and clutching his worn jacket around him, carefully guarding the wad of money. 

He dreamed of Brian, the eyes and the mouth and the fuck that they would have had, had Justin not been so fucking stubborn. He got up after a couple hours of wet dreams and went to Central Park with his notebook and mechanical pencil to sketch and _not_ think about his mother and Pittsburgh and Brian. _But what if it was true?_ What if he did have a family looking for him, a place to go back to.

Then again, what did it really matter now. He put down his pencil and stared straight ahead. What did it really matter?

*

Brian called Jennifer after a long hour of asking himself if he really wanted that kind of trouble. He did have work to do in New York, however insignificant, it had to get done. He called her anyway and braced himself. 

"You found him?!" He could hear a squawking in the background that was Debbie, "is he ok? When are you bringing him home? Oh God, is he ok?" 

"He's...fine. He's alive." 

Silence on the other end, "what does that mean Brian? What's wrong with him?" 

"Where would you like me to start?" 

"Don't get smart with me Brian, I'm coming to New York." 

"No. No, Jennifer do not fucking come here. I'll bring him back, I...fuck-"

"Promise me."

"Jennifer-"

"Promise me or I'm coming up there. And I'm bringing Debbie." 

Brian was silent but he looked down at the flyer in his hand, Justin grinned back up at him and then the Justin last night: no smile, only a sneer and emotionless eyes, "I promise." 

*

He went back to the corner and spotted the kids who were with Justin last night but they said he had stayed home. He paid them for their address. 

It was totally decrepit which wasn't exactly surprising, it was the type of place with one communal   
bathroom and 100 fucking residents so Brian completely understands Justin's need to wash up in a restaurant. He ignores the clenching in his chest when he thinks about how long Justin's been living in filth and how much Justin deserves so much better. 

He carefully climbed the stairs, avoided the used needles, beer bottles and various trash on the steps and did not touch the railing because it had rats crawling up and down it. 

He finally, after what seemed like years, reached the apartment and wondered if he should knock or just walk in because there is no way there is a lock on that fucking door. He decided to knock and he could hear feet patter to the door and when it opened it was irritatingly not Justin who answered the door but a campy queen who looked him up and down and cocked a eyebrow. 

"All the boys in here are off duty. Wait for them on the street honey," he stopped the door from closing in his face and tried his most charming smile.

"I'm looking for Justin." 

"Hmm, I don't think so," he tried to shut the door again but Brian stuck his leg inside and shoved the   
kid aside. He walked in and cringed at the state of it. He needed to get out of here as soon as possible but the kid is still talking, "hey asshole, get the fuck out-"

"Where's Justin?" 

A short laugh and he can here the kid tapping his foot on the wood, "out and about I'm sure, now get   
out." 

"Where does he usually go?" 

"Do I look like his mother?" A noise from behind Brian and he turned to see Justin looking at him, confused and most likely pissed off. 

"What are you doing here?" Justin didn't seem to notice the other kid, but the other kid noticed Justin's appearance and moved in closer to him. 

"I've come to take you from this hell hole, you live like this?" 

"Yeah well our cleaning lady quit after she found our pet rat." 

"Funny. Get your shit, you're coming with me." 

"Oh really? I wasn't aware we had plans." Justin walked past him without a glance and threw a notebook and pencil down onto a shitty looking cot. But that went without saying because everything in this apartment looked and was shitty. Christ. "You're stalking me now?"

"You used to stalk me," plan B was to feed Justin pieces of himself, little breadcrumbs to lead Justin to Brian. 

Justin stared at him, his eyes burned a whole through his head and it made Brian feel a little hot and more than a little uncomfortable. 

"I stalked you?" 

Brian took a step closer and carefully kept the eye contact, "you thought you were in love with me-"  
He could hear the other kid snort behind him, but he knew he was getting somewhere, Justin's eyes flashed and Brian smiled. He still had that romantic heart of gold somewhere. He took another step   
closer, "you were quite infatuated and completely fearless-"

"Stop."

Brian stopped and waited. Justin didn't say anything but finally looked away, "stop what? I'm just telling you about your life. The one you have ample opportunity to go back to." 

"What? Justin, what the fuck is going on? Who is this guy?" The roommate had finally spoken up. Brian turned and glared, he was getting somewhere and he didn't need this asshole ruining it.

"Don't you have a ditch to go crawl into?" 

"Oh go fuck yourself. Just-"

"Shut the fuck up everyone," Justin's hand was on his head, covering his scar and he was wincing. Brian narrowed his eyes and took a step closer, he reached a hand out to touch him but Justin swatted it away and stepped back, his legs hitting the cot behind him, "don't touch me." 

"Alright," But Brian really didn't have the patience to deal with this shit. The kid was coming with him now.

"Look-" Justin stopped and rubbed his forehead and then brushed his hair back and then tapped his foot. Brian was going to murder him, "if I go with you, I'm coming back here when we're done. There will be no happy reunion, no return of memory and no saving of my poor little soul. I'm going with you out of curiosity and because of the 1000 dollars you will be paying me."

"You trying to make me broke?" 

"You can afford it, I'm sure. Deal or no?" 

Brian grinned, "deal. Pack your shit."


	4. Chapter 4

  
Author's notes: Thanks to all those on Livejournal who have been responding to this story.   


* * *

Justin gently fingered the silk duvet in the hotel room. He had packed up everything in one bag and left Trevor gaping behind him. Brian had left him to his own devices, claiming work, but Justin was disinclined to trust him, but then again he couldn't care less what Brian was doing with his time. 

He went to the window and peeked out of the sheer curtains at Central Park. He was antsy and couldn't decide what he wanted to do first, take a shower, watch T.V., sleep, or eat. So many good options so little time. They were leaving first thing tomorrow morning and Justin's stomach was fluttering so much he thought he would throw up. 

His mother. Christ, his actual living breathing mother. What was she like? Did he look like her? What had she been doing for 3 years? What was his father like? Did he have any siblings? There were far too many jumbled questions running through his mind and he was really going to throw up now. 

*

Brian's foot would not stop tapping. He was about to chop his own leg off for posterity. Mr. Weinstein would not stop talking about their fucking font choices. Outwardly he was all nods and smiles and charm the fucking pants off of Mr. fat bald and ugly, inside all he could think about was Justin. What was he doing right now? Probably trashing the hotel room just to spite him, the little shit. Or maybe he was taking a shower. Now there was a happy train of thought. 

The morning after shower with Justin. Wet, slippery and smooth skin, hair plastered to his neck and forehead. He could fucking picture them now...fucking. Justin's hair was longer now, more to grab onto. He wondered if anything else had changed. Kid was probably skinny underneath those layers, skin probably just as pale and judging by his face and hands still unblemished and smooth. 

His mind had wandered so far, the meeting was over. _Finally._ He shook their hands and patted them on the backs and then booked it out of there, hailing a cab quickly back to the hotel. 

*

The shower was on when he got back, Justin's bag sat where he left it a few hours ago and it looked like nothing had been moved or touched since he left. 

He went to the bathroom and opened the door, quickly pulling open the shower curtain. Justin sat curled up in the tub and he looked up in surprise. 

"Fuck, you scared me."

"What the hell are you doing?" 

Justin stood up and wiped water from his eyes, "nothing. Thinking." 

"How long have you been in here?" Justin shrugged and glared when Brian turned the water off. Brian reached for the towel but Justin snatched it before he could and pulled it around his waist. He carefully stepped out of the tub and stood directly in front of Brian. 

"Can you move?" 

Brian took a step closer. Justin snorted and pushed him aside, "I'm not fucking you, so forget it." He dropped the towel to the floor and eyed Brian, "do you mind?" 

Brian snorted, "you're a hustler and you pretend to have modesty? That's a new one." 

"Yeah, well you'd be surprised at what turns some guy's cranks."

"Would I?" 

"This banter thing is fun and all, but I'd like to get dressed," he gestured towards the door and Brian rolled his eyes but obliged. The door slammed shut behind him and Brian shook his head. He eyed Justin's pack and went to it. He picked it up, it was a little heavy. A messenger bag that had been taped up in several places, patched in a few more. It had doodles all over it, various New York City scenes done in plain black pen. 

"What are you doing?" 

Brian turned, startled and covered it up, "nice drawings."

"Thank you," Justin grabbed the bag from him and put it down on the desk. 

"You drew a lot." 

"I know that one." 

"You had a showing, an art showing. At the Gay and Lesbian Center."

Justin smiled slightly, fingering some of the drawings on his bag.

Brian took that as a sign and flopped down on the bed, "what do you want to know before we see your mother?"

Justin shrugged and leaned back against the desk, "was I...how old was I when we met?" 

"17."

"You fucked a 17 year old? Nice one." 

"You don't know how old you are?" 

"I'm 20."

"Well obviously, I mean before. You had no identification with you, no driver's license, no...credit card?" Brian waited for that. He had waited for months for that card to be used, for any activity at all. There was a 1000 dollar charge a few days after the kid disappeared at Best Buy, but he knew that wasn't Justin and that's when he knew Justin didn't have anything. The kid was in NYC but that helped no one unless he knew where to look. 

"No. Just a sketchpad, in a alley, bleeding from the head," Justin looked uncomfortable when this subject came up so Brian changed it before Justin clammed up again. 

"Your parents were always pretty well off, still are-"

"My dad?" 

"What about him?" 

"You always talk about my mother, never my dad. What's he like?" 

"He's a asshole, don't bother."

"Fuck you. You're the one with all the information, you can't just feed it to me when you want-"

"Why not? It's what's keeping you in this room isn't it?" Brian's eyes slid to Justin, still leaning on the desk, this time with his hands clenched on the desk behind him, "your father is a homophobic prick. He kicked you out of the house, he rammed his car into my jeep, he kicked my in the ribs several times. He doesn't care where you are, so you shouldn't give a shit about him." 

"Why did I run?"

"How the fuck should I know?" 

"You said it was a 'incident.'" 

Brian sighed, "you were...staying with me for awhile. You forgot to lock up, it got robbed, I got pissed and exploded, kicked you out. You ran."

"So I had nowhere else to go."

"That's bullshit. You had plenty of other places to go."

Justin didn't say anything, just shrugged and looked down at his feet, "it probably didn't feel like it   
for him at the time."

"You."

"What?" 

"Not 'him', you. You're not two different people." 

"But I am. You have all these memories of the Justin before. I don't, all I have are my memories."

Brian certainly wasn't going to argue that point. It was like two different people, the old Justin was a bubbly puppy full of boundless energy. This Justin, this new Justin had two emotions, angry and sad and couldn't seem to muster any interest in Brian at all. It was different, Brian felt heartless enough to even say it was interesting, intriguing. It made Brian want to show this new Justin what the old Justin had been so infatuated with. It made him want to fuck all the memories back into him. 

They had decided that they would share the bed. Justin slid carefully into it and scooted all the way to the edge. He could feel Justin slip into deep sleep, it was as if the bed got heavier as Justin relaxed into it. Brian scooted a bit closer and thought about all the things he could have said to Justin before he left, things to make the kid stay. Things to make the kid stay and fuck around with Brian, make up with his mom, graduate from St. James and get the fuck out of town. 

Justin would have been a normal college student by now, being a snobby intellectual with all the other pissants that graduated from private school. Would Brian have still been fucking him? Would it have been a relationship? Brian was hard pressed to find truth in that idea, but he could almost imagine it, and maybe, just maybe, they would have been happy. 

*

They arrived in Pittsburgh and it was predictably dreary outside. Justin looked grey and kept touching his stomach like he was sure he was going to throw up. Brian decided to hold off on visiting his mother. He ushered him inside the loft and watched Justin take it all in. He couldn't help but think that one of these places, one of these people would make Justin remember. 

"Nice place."

"I know," he tossed his suitcase on the bed and shed his jacket, "make yourself comfortable." Brian watched Justin walk to the windows and look out into the city, touch the couch and glance at the kitchen, but he continued to stand awkwardly.

"How much time did I spend here?"

"A little bit. I mainly invited you over to fuck."

"How surprising," Justin said in a dry voice glancing at Brian. Brian strolled down the steps and   
walked up to Justin.

"Sit down or something. You're making me fucking nervous." 

"When do I see my mother?" Justin asked, but sat down on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.

"When you don't look like you're going to hurl all over her cardigan sweater."

"So never then?" 

"Tomorrow," Brian said and sunk down next to him on the couch, "you alright?"

"Fine. Just thinking." 

"About what?" 

Justin gave him a incredulous look, "the local hockey team, what do you think?" 

"You have nothing to be nervous about."

"Ha. Yeah right. Nothing at all, just meeting the friends and family I obviously cared _so_ much about 3 years ago. Who, by the way, I have no memory of. Nothing nerve wracking about that."

"They did care about you. But you ran to New York fucking City capital of the universe, millions of people crammed into a tiny space. With no paper trail. Be grateful-"

"Grateful? GRATEFUL?" Justin stood up, "I knew this was a fucking bad idea. You may know about my past, but you sure as fuck don't know about my present. I live in hell, HELL. You...fuck this. I just want to meet my mother and leave," Justin stalked over to the door, "lets go and get this over with."


	5. Chapter 5

  
Author's notes: Thanks to all those on Livejournal who have been responding to this story.   


* * *

The ride to Jennifer's was far too short and extremely quiet. Justin seemed to be vibrating from a overload of emotions, not surprising since the kid rarely seem to express anything but contempt. He was still in his ratty clothes, he had refused any offers to buy him new clothes, or to even wear any of Brian's. The jacket looked ready to fall to pieces and was patched in several places. He had taken off the hoodie and was just wearing a shirt underneath. It looked constricting and far too dirty. 

Brian took a deep breath as he pulled into Jennifer's driveway. He got out of the car but Justin just remained in his seat. He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. 

"You alright?" 

"Fine." 

Brian waited. Then lost his patience, "you going to get out of the car?" 

"Just give me a second or I'll hurl all over your leather interior."

Brian watched the kid take several deep breaths, one after another and put his hand to his stomach, rubbing lightly. Brian crouched down and laid a hand on Justin's cheek, "your mom loves you, there's nothing to be nervous about." 

Justin rolled his eyes, but didn't move away from the hand, "we're not having that argument again." 

Brian grabbed Justin's hand and pulled him out of the car, "come on, sooner you get this over with-"

"Right. No more comforting sayings alright? You're not good at them," Justin said. Brian led the way to the door, with Justin slightly behind him, Justin's hand still holding onto his. 

Brian knocked lightly and looked back at Justin, who had gone grey, "Justin..."

"JUSTIN," Jennifer stood in shock, in the doorway and Justin stepped farther behind Brian. Brian tugged him forward by the hand he was still holding onto and into Jennifer's clutching arms. Justin stood stiff and didn't seem to know what to do. Jennifer started babbling randomly and gently running her hands all over Justin, "you look terrible and so skinny. Justin, I can't believe it." 

She tugged him inside, gripped his arm like a vice and Brian followed them inside the condo. 

*

Justin seemed to never get out of the awkward phase. He sat ram rod straight on the couch and kept glancing around warily. 

Brian and Jennifer watched him from the kitchen and Brian finally told her, "he doesn't remember you." 

Jennifer dropped the glass she was holding and out of the corner of his eye he saw Justin stand up from the couch at the loud crash. Brian shook his head at him and he sat back down. Jennifer stared at   
him, "I'm sorry. There really wasn't time to tell you." 

"Well," Jennifer didn't know what to say, "he has...amnesia? What happened?" 

Brian shrugged, "he hasn't really talked about it much, also he doesn't really remember it." 

"Has he been to see a doctor?" Then she must have realized what she said, "right. Of course not. Well, it doesn't matter now. He's home and that's all that matters." 

"He's also not planning on staying here. In the Pitts." If Jennifer had been holding another glass, she would have lost that one too, instead she just stared at him, "I should have told you all this shit before but-"

"He's staying."

"You can't force him-"

"He'll see what a wonderful family he has and he'll want to stay," with that Jennifer returned to the   
living room and to Justin.

Jennifer sat on the couch next to him, but seemed to notice his uncomfortable state and kept her distance. Brian leaned against the wall and watched Justin. 

"So Justin...Well you have a sister, Molly, but she's out and about with her friends," Justin nodded his head and bit his lip, "I understand this has to be...odd for you. We looked for you, forever, but it was like you disappeared off the face of the planet," Jennifer's voice was cracking and Justin handed her the box of tissues. Jennifer gave a little laugh and took one.

Justin didn't seem to have any idea of what to say. 

Jennifer cleared her throat, "so Justin, honey, what do you want to know about me? About your childhood? Better get you started on remembering huh?" She gave him a encouraging smile and Brian's heart clenched again. He was so used to determined, strong Jennifer he wasn't expecting to see this Jennifer. This was Jennifer as a mother. 

Justin stared at her for a moment and then glanced towards Brian, "I'm not really sure I want to   
remember Mrs. Taylor." 

"Mom, please, call me mom." 

Justin swallowed and looked away from Jennifer again, "right."

"Why wouldn't you want to remember?" Jennifer asked, "you have a wonderful family-"

"That I ran away from? Look, I think it's been too long-"

"It's never too long for a mother, Justin," Jennifer said and Brian looked away, "you ran away, yes, but you were a child and the situation really wasn't as bad as all that. I'm sure if you hadn't-well I'm sure if whatever happened to you hadn't happened, you would have been here and happy." 

Justin said nothing at first, just blinked at Jennifer and then stood up, "look I have a home," Brian let out a short laugh at that, "and my own life, however shitty, it's what I know. I wanted to meet you and I did," Justin started towards the door and Jennifer hurried after him. 

"Justin!" Jennifer's voice was desperate, "wait. Wait at least a couple days, meet the rest of the people who were in your life and then leave. But please, give me a few days with you," Jennifer took Justin's hand, "please." 

*

Justin was laying on Brian's couch, a lit joint in between his fingers. Brian sat on the floor and watched him. He wore a pair of Brian's sweat pants, low around the hips, one leg dangling off the couch, Brian was incredibly hard and incredibly frustrated. 

"So who are these other people I'm meeting?" Justin took a hit and closed his eyes.

"Don't bogart my pot," he took the joint from Justin, "just a few people you knew for a little while. And probably Daphne." 

"Daphne?" 

"Your best friend." 

"So someone I knew for more than a couple months?" 

"Yeah," Brian recognized a hint when he saw one, "we did only know each other for a couple months. But you made quite a...impression."

"I gave you great head." 

Brian grinned, "something like that." 

"So I was a hustler before I was a hustler. That's convenient. I found my true calling then." 

"You weren't a hustler. You were a highschool student who discovered the joys of fucking."

"With you," Justin gave him a sidelong glance.

"Yeah, with me." 

"And no one else?" 

Brian didn't say anything, just stubbed out the joint and stood up. He walked to the couch and looked down at Justin, gently ran a hand through his hair, tugged gently on the ends of it. Justin stared up at him, a frown etched into his face. All Brian could see was that kid at the GLC art show. He could feel Justin in front of him, the feel of his chest under his arms. Brian stepped back from the Justin on the couch and climbed up the steps to his bedroom. He could hear Justin sit up on the couch, and he could feel his eyes as the stared at his back. 

He climbed into his bed and stared at the ceiling. A few brief moments later, Justin slid in beside him. 

*

Justin's eyes were heavy and he blinked a few times to clear them. A fat sweaty man lay over him and Justin couldn't breathe, couldn't move. There was a horrible stench in the air and the man groaned and ground into him. Justin was going to be sick, he was going to be sick. He turned his head to the side and tried desperately to roll to his side, but the heavy body was still on top of him. His arms were stuck to his sides and all he could see when he stared up was the man's round face, contorted into a look of sheer pleasure. 

Justin was going to be sick. 

Sick. 

Sick. 

Sick.

"Justin." 

"Justin."

He felt a shaking in his shoulder and he tried to move away again but the man was still on top of him. 

"JUSTIN." 

Justin eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly, he could feel a wetness that dripped into his eyes and   
he quickly swiped at it. 

"You alright?" Brian sat up next to him and eyed him curiously, "nightmare?" 

"I'm going to take a shower," Justin quickly got up and went for the bathroom. He quickly stripped off   
Brian's sweat pants and stepped into the shower, turned it as hot as it would possibly go. He looked down at his hand as it shook, "fuck." 

He could feel the tears coming, and he blinked hard several times and forced them back. He slid down the tile wall and curled up on the floor of the shower.


	6. Chapter 6

  
Author's notes: Thanks to all those on Livejournal who have been responding to this story.   


* * *

Brian lay in bed and waited for Justin to get out of the shower. He had woken up when Justin had started to sweat; his clammy skin and restless movements startled Brian out of his own not so peaceful sleep. 

Justin’s face was ashen and although he almost always looked like he was going to throw up lately, he had looked like death as he lay in Brian’s bed. 

He turned his head as he heard the shower shut off. Justin had been in there for an hour and 15 minutes. But Brian wasn’t counting and he certainly didn’t give a shit. If Justin wanted to get all pruney to wash his bad dreams away, more fucking power to him. 

He had been laying there thinking about Justin; he seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Every moment of everyday was spent thinking about that kid. There were a few months in there, in the beginning, when Justin first disappeared, that Brian couldn’t be bothered to think about the kid. He had dug his own hole; he had the means to get along by himself. He hadn’t really thought about it much. He was so fucking certain that the kid was selling his art, becoming a big fat success or that he was a go-go boy in fucking Chelsea, because the kid was ambitious and brave if nothing else. 

Every couple of months he would get an ache and he would see Justin in front of him. Sometimes completely unmoving, sometimes with a gash in his stomach or his head, one particular bad acid trip, with blood gushing from his mouth. He could never shake that feeling that he was seeing Justin, right in front of him, that he had failed the kid. That he was supposed to protect him, that he had met him for a reason, even though Brian had certainly never believed in that shit, the more frequent the thoughts the fucking visions the more the thoughts became embedded in his head. Never to leave. 

That was when he saw Jennifer again, in the diner, talking to Deb. Her hair longer and in a mess on top of her head, dark circles, ratty wrinkled clothes and he got that ache in his chest again. He could remember Deb, who watched him come in and she gave him that look, that look that said “you’re going to make this right.” 

And he was trying, God help him, he was truly fucking trying. If anything else to be rid of the guilt, the fucking thoughts that plagued him, to be rid of this kid once and for all. 

The bathroom door slid open and Justin stood, hair wet, pants again at his hips.

Brian closed his eyes briefly and Justin stood in front of him, bleeding from the head, pale and ratty hair, “feel better?” 

Justin nodded and crawled back into his bed. He lay stiff next to Brian, arms crossed on his chest, “what was your dream about?” 

Justin shrugged and turned on his side, “I don’t remember.”

“Took you an hour in the shower to forget it?” 

“It was nothing.” 

*

Brian opened his bleary eyes to the sound of pots and pans clattering in the kitchen. He groaned and got up before he decided to sleep till noon. 

Justin stood in the kitchen, back in his own clothes. He stood over a pan and stared at it, as if it contained the meaning of existence. Brian stepped up behind him and looked over his shoulder, “melting butter is very fascinating isn’t it?” 

Justin stiffened briefly and turned around to face Brian. He lifted his chin to look up at Brian, “excuse me.” 

Brian stepped back and moved aside, he watched Justin as he poured eggs into the pan, “you get up early. You used to sleep in, never wanted to get up.” 

Justin made a noise to indicate he was listening but didn’t look at Brian. He half heartedly pushed the eggs around in the pan. 

“You still hog the covers.” 

“Who are we seeing today?” 

“I thought I’d leave you with Daphne today,” Brian said. 

“You aren’t coming with me?” 

“I have to appear at work sometime.” 

Justin swallowed heavily but seemed to shake it off, “want some eggs?” 

“No I have to get ready for work,” Brian stepped closer and leaned down. He waited for Justin to move away but Justin stood and stared at his eggs. He gently placed a kiss on Justin’s cheek, rested for a moment and then pulled back. 

*

Brian had dropped him off at Daphne’s apartment. He had said he had explained everything to her and that he informed her that he should be “gentle” with him. Justin had promptly told him to go fuck himself and now Justin sat on Daphne’s couch and watched as she ran to the bathroom to clear up her running mascara. 

She came out and stared at him for a second and then sniffed again and turned to the kitchen, “what do you want to drink? I’ve got beer, wine, orange juice…actually that’s no good, milk…nope that’s bad too. Beer or wine?” 

“Beer’s good.” 

“Great,” she sat one in front of him and then seemingly all but collapsed into the chair in front of him. She was quiet for a second and then said, “Does my mascara look ok?” 

“Uh…yes?” 

“Great, good,” Daphne smiled, “God, you look so different. I like your hair that length though. I think with short hair you had a bit too much forehead.” 

“Alright.” 

“You also aren’t much of a talker anymore are you? That’s alright I can do most of the talking. Would you like to look at some pictures?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, just stood up and hurried to her room. 

She brought out a box full, horribly unorganized and just kept handing him piles of pictures. They all came with an explanation or a story. Some fight with his or her parents and the aftermath, the mutual friends they had till high school when according to Daphne they all “got sucked into the hell that is cliques.” Their friendship, the things they had done together. She talked a lot about Brian and how in love with him he had been. She showed a few pictures of them together, in what looked to be a bar and then an art gallery. 

“You guys really didn’t know each other that well. Brian’s sort of a hard ass and then after you left-“

Justin threw her a curious look, so she continued, “well he sort of became less of a hard ass and I think kind of realized he did have feelings somewhere. Then he started helping out your mom and here you are now!” 

Justin looked down at the picture he held, Brian held him about the waist, well he smiled at the camera, as if embarrassed. Daphne cleared her throat, “you can keep whichever ones you want, and I have doubles.” 

Justin ran a finger over Brian’s face and then tossed it down on the table. 

“He really cares for you a lot. He may not act like it, but he does. He’s probably even in love with you,” Daphne seemed eager for his response and he looked at her hopeful face and just couldn’t bear to crush her romantic fantasy. So he just smiled politely and listened to her ramble on about his past. 

*

Justin waited for Brian in the loft. He wandered around and found Brian’s extensive stash of both old classic movies and old classic porn movies. He looked at the very few pictures Brian had around the loft. One of him and what Justin assumed was his son, him and a blonde lady, him and a young puppy looking guy. 

That was it. 

Justin frowned, no pictures of Brian’s own family, unless those were his only family left, but Justin had an inkling that that wasn’t true. He could almost feel something important that pushed at his mind. 

The loft door slid open and Justin turned to see Brian as he loosened his tied and dropped his briefcase. He hadn’t noticed Justin yet and Justin could see the tired lines around his face, must’ve been a shitty day at work. 

“Justin?” 

“In here,” Justin said and stepped to the stairs. Brian nodded at him and walked up the stairs and it almost felt for a brief tense moment that that instant desperately needed a kiss. Justin wondered if he had used to want that from Brian, that welcome home kiss. 

Brian tossed his tie and his jacked on the bed, but continued to eye Justin. The bed sat in between them, as some kind of sick and twisted symbol or metaphor. 

“How was your day dear?” Brian’s voice held an edge and it was obvious that he was in a shitty mood. Justin shrugged and watched Brian as he pulled on jeans and a hideous patterned shirt. 

“It was alright. Daphne talks a lot.” Brian snorted at his assessment of Daphne and moved to the bathroom. Justin decided to leave him alone for awhile and went to the living room. He dug around in his bag for a pencil and took out his notebook. He shook his hand out and cracked a few of his fingers and began to draw.

* 

Brian rested his head against the shower wall and thought about what he was doing. Fucking Stockwell, homophobic prick with all the right contacts. He thought of Justin and his nightmares and sleeping next to that warm body again tonight and the way Debbie looked at him in the diner today, how Jen called to fucking schedule another meeting with Justin. 

How he was fucking doing the right things in his life and still felt like shit. 

Fuck.


	7. Chapter 7

  
Author's notes: Thanks to all those on Livejournal who have been responding to this story.   


* * *

"So you're in advertising?" Justin didn't look up, just kept drawing. Brian grunted and rooted through the cabinets, "stressful job?" 

"It is now," Brian decided that his best policy with Justin was to be as honest as possible, to attempt to get Justin to trust him, at least a little bit. 

"Why's that?" Justin turned to look at him, clearly interested in whatever Brian had to say. Brian slammed the cabinet shut and turned to Justin. 

"I have a client who I dislike immensely." 

"Why?"

"What are you fucking two years old?" Brian pulled out his takeout file and rooted around in it, "Thai ok?"

"Whatever is fine," Justin had stood up and was staring out at the window again. Brian tossed the phone on the couch and sat down next to it. Justin's notebook lie open and Brian looked at it curiously; he reached for it and then stopped. 

"Can I?" 

"Huh?" Justin then seemed to notice Brian sitting on the couch, reaching for his notebook, "yeah, sure." 

Brian picked it up and began to flip through it. A lot of them were small pictures, little scenes with incredible detail that was occasionally obscured by the lines of the paper. Brian scowled, "why do you draw in a notebook?"

Justin shrugged, "less expensive and easier to carry." 

"Your drawings should be more important." 

"Should they? I'm pretty sure that getting away fast would be the most important," Justin reached for the notebook.

"Calm down alright? I understand-" a picture slipped out of the notebook and on the floor. Justin reached to pick it up but Brian got to it first. It was a picture of them, at Woody's. Brian eyes immediately went to Justin's face, he smiled in a distinctly embarrassed way at whoever was taking the picture, his hand on Brian's arm as if he was both shoving and pulling Brian, "where'd you get this?"

Justin pulled at his bottom lip and Brian stared for a second before he turned back to the picture, "Daphne. She gave it to me." 

"Do you remember this?" 

Justin didn't respond for a long time and when he did his voice was immensely sad, "no." 

"This was at Woody's, the night of your first gallery show at the GLC."

"Woody's?"

Brian nodded and gently ran a finger over Justin's face, "a local gay bar on Liberty Avenue."

"You go to a gay bar?" Justin smirked, "sounds a little cheap." 

"Not like I would go to a fucking straight honky tonk bar with flannel wearing-"

"Ok, ok calm down," Justin laughed, "Christ." 

"Come on," Justin looked at him in surprise; Brian stood up and grabbed his jacket.

"Where are you going?" 

"Where are _we_ going. We're going to Woody's, let's go." 

*

Brian steered Justin to a table in the corner, where he wouldn't be as conspicuous and were he could watch everyone else, "what do you want to drink?" 

Justin shrugged, "a beer is fine." 

Brian made his way to the bar and when he was sufficiently done with leering at the bartender he made his way back to Justin who was being cruised quite heavily. Brian plopped himself down and handed Justin the beer all the while keeping eye contact, "Sean, how pleasant to see you." 

"Brian-" and then Sean seemed to reconsider whatever he was going to say and quickly got up and left. Brian scoffed at him and looked back out at the crowd at Woody's. He could feel Justin's eyes on him. 

"What?" He said it far more sharply then he had intended, but he didn't try to take the glare off.

"Nothing, it's just-" Brian looked at Justin, who still stared at him, "I'm used to the pick ups, I am a hustler." 

"Not here you're not." 

"You’re trying to change me? I'm a hustler here, I'm a hustler in New York, I'm not going to change and you certainly don't need to be a pimp about it." 

Brian bit back his sharp comments, "that's what you want to do with the rest of your life? Sell yourself on the fucking streets until you fucking die? Someone cuts you up while fucking you? Someone gives you a fucking fatal disease-"

"Are you done yet?" 

"No, so shut the fuck up-"

"Brian?" Brian looked up sharply and saw Michael, Ted and Emmett who all stared at Justin in shock. 

*

It was probably the most uncomfortable table in the room, the air in Woody's had even shifted as a result and Brian sat back in his chair, leaned in towards Justin and waited for the inquisition. 

"Where the fuck have you been?" Is the first question out of Michael's mouth, "my mom's been fucking worried sick about you. You just run away like some little idiot? You could have been killed-"

"Michael," Brian's getting a headache already, "leave it." 

"I've been in New York, I'm a hustler. Would you like a go?" Justin said this all with wide eyed innocence but Brian can see the wicked grin underneath the surface.

"A...a hustler? Oh honey, are you alright?" Emmett winces at his own stupid question, "well of course you aren't alright. What's important is that you're here and that Brian's going to take care of you." 

Brian gives Emmett his ‘what the fuck face?’ Emmett responds with his ‘well aren't you?’ face and the whole table is silent. Justin stands up and excuses himself to the bathroom and that's when everyone starts to talk. 

"What the hell Brian? When did he get here?" 

"Is he staying?" 

"A hustler Brian-"

"His hair looks really nice-"

"When is he leaving?" 

Brian rubbed the sides of his forehead with the tips of his fingers and tried to block out the voices. Michael’s hand came to rest on his forearm.

“Fuck Brian, shouldn’t he be with his mother?” 

Brian scoffed and shook Michael’s hand off, “that hysterical woman? Please. Kid’s better off with me.” 

“For how long?” 

Brian shrugged, “however long he wants.” 

“Look, maybe he’s better off in New York, he’s obviously built a life there-“

Brian gave Michael an incredulous look, “you’re telling me you want Justin fucking living on the streets, selling himself because you happen to not like him? Are you fucking insane?” 

Michael put up his hands in self defense, “hey that’s not true, I’m just saying that you can’t keep him here-“

“I’m not keeping him anywhere and you don’t know shit, so stay out of it,” Brian said through gritted teeth. 

“Alright, you’re right. I’m sorry,” Michael said, “have you talked to my mom yet?” 

“No, that’s another hysterical woman that I don’t want to deal with,” Justin slid back into his seat beside him and they all turned to look at him. 

“What hysterical woman?” 

“Michael’s mother honey, Debbie, she’s been looking for you too, spreading the word,” Emmett said. 

“You won’t have to meet her for awhile,” Brian said, “or never.” 

*

Brian stumbled through the loft door; Justin held him upright and deposited him on the couch. 

Brian looked up at him and grabbed Justin’s arm before he could move away, “you’re pretty.” 

Justin looked down at him and jerked his arm away gently, “you’re drunk.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tell the truth,” Brian said and then shook his head when Justin became blurry; “you’re very very pretty.”

Justin sighed and sat down next to him, “I know.” 

Brian leaned in closer and whispered, “I really really want to fuck you.” 

“I’m sure you do,” Justin whispered back and scooted a little away. 

“You want to fuck me too, don’t you?” Brian’s hand moved down and cupped Justin’s crotch through his jeans. Justin swallowed heavily and Brian’s vision began clearing up. Justin’s eyes were lidded heavily and Brian grinned at his accomplishment. 

“What are you doing Brian?” Justin’s hand covered Brian’s on his dick and pulled it off. Brian’s hand moved to his chest. He pinched his nipple through his shirt and grinned at Justin’s gasp. 

“I’m going to fuck the memories back into you.” 

“I don’t think it works like that,” Brian’s hand moved down again, the other hand that grasped Justin’s arm tightened. Brian leaned in and pressed his lips against Justin’s, soft and incredibly wet. Brian pulled away and grinned.

“It’ll work for you,” Brian started to unbutton Justin’s pants; Justin frowned and suddenly got up from the couch. 

“Go fuck yourself Brian,” Justin hurried out of the loft and all Brian heard was the echo of the loft door behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

  
Author's notes: Thanks to all those on Livejournal who have been responding to this story.   


* * *

Brian lay down on the couch; he held Justin's notebook on his chest and stared at the ceiling. The slight buzz he had was wearing off and he waited for the loft door to slide open. 

He knew he should get up and find Justin. Kid didn't have a clue where he was going, what he was doing. He might resort to doing something fucking reckless and stupid and Brian would be responsible for it, _again_. 

And then Justin stood in front of him, blood poured out of his mouth and his hands reached for him. And Brian quickly stood up and pulled on his jacket.

*

Justin walked down street after street. He held his head as flashes came to him; some brought him to his knees. He could see himself. He sat on an older man's lap as a kid, giggling freely. Jennifer sat in front of him, hands clasped in her lap, a young girl with blonde hair screamed at him. And then they stopped. Justin quickly stood up and ran. 

*

Brian stood outside his building, left or right. Or straight. Fucking kid, he turned to go back inside the building but Justin stood in front of it, blood all over him and Brian sighed and turned back. He was going fucking crazy, he was. He jumped as his phone rang inside his pocket and he fumbled for it.

"Yeah?" 

A long moment of silence, then, "Brian." 

"Where the fuck are you? You piece of shit!"

Another long moment of silence and then he could hear a long sigh, "Liberty Avenue. Do you know where that is?" 

Brian snorted, "Stay right fucking there. Do not move, understand? I'll be there in five." 

*

Justin stood, leaned against a lamp post and Brian scowled. Once a hustler, always a hustler. He ignored the twinge of memory that seeped into him, flannel shirts and tennis shoes. He had no time for them anymore. 

He walked up to Justin and looked at him; Justin was resolutely not looking at him, just stared at the street. 

"Remember any of this?" 

Justin looked startled, "no, should I?" 

"This used to be your stomping ground." 

Justin kept watching the patrons of Liberty strut about, Brian spotted the diner and decided to take a leap. 

"You hungry?" 

*

When Justin walked through the diner he immediately doubled over in pain, he clutched his head and Brian could see him go red from embarrassment. Brian helped him up and waved the waiter away. He chose a booth in the back corner and slid in next to Justin. 

Justin hid his face from Brian with his hands, his fingers rubbed his forehead. Brian's hand hovered over his back, until Justin edged towards him slightly, Brian turned to glance at the diner and saw several of them who stared at them. There were whispers but no Debbie and Brian was extremely grateful. 

Brian rested his chin on top of Justin's head and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. He tried to think of something comforting to say, would Justin even want to hear it. He couldn't think of anything so he said the first thing that came to mind. 

"I keep having visions of you," he whispered and Justin looked up at him. 

"That's the worst pickup line I've ever heard." 

Brian smiled, "no, but I have those kind too. These are you, with blood all over you. A white shirt and jeans, you stare at me."

"Blood all over me?" 

"Coming out of your mouth, your hands are covered in it." 

Justin pulled away from him and Brian instantly regretted saying anything about it. Justin wiped a hand over his face and played with his fork, he cleared his throat, "when I was-when I was," Justin sighed and started all over again, "when I was found in the alley, I had a broken right arm and blood in my mouth, plus the head injury."

Brian didn't say anything, but in his head he was chalking it up to coincidence, strictly coincidence. 

"Do you want to order something?" And the moment was gone, successfully shattered. 

*

"It doesn't have to mean anything," Justin said, with his mouth full of hamburger. 

"What?" 

"Your 'visions', could mean absolute shit, just your sick mind and Irish guilt complex." 

"You don't know shit about the Irish." 

"I've got a roommate-"

"Fellow hustler?" 

"Whose Irish, straight from the source," Justin popped a fry in his mouth, "complete drunk, always feeling sorry for himself-"

Brian scowled, "fuck you. I don't feel sorry for myself."

"Then why'd you start helping dear old mom find me then? If not guilt. We only fucked for what? A couple of months and I doubt you cared much about fuck all that happened to me. Seems to me all you want is a piece of my ass," Justin stared at him, "and if I gave it to you, you would end this whole thing."

"Would I? Who are you my own pocket Freud?"

Justin shrugged and went back to his food. 

Later as Brian lay in bed, Justin curled on his side, Brian knew that wasn't true. It wasn't true. As much as he wanted it, wanted to fuck Justin, fuck did he want to, it wasn't his reason. 

It wasn't.


End file.
